Atem the Pharaoh and Ammon the Thief
by WarriorLoverInc
Summary: An evil and greedy man has faked Pharaoh Atems' death and stolen Egypt's throne from its' rightful king. Ammons' home village is destroyed by the false Pharaohs' army, and Ammon, close to dead, is saved by Atem and his Resistance. What's next?
1. Ch 1: The Man in the Sand Colored Cloak

**Atem the Pharaoh and Ammon the Thief**

**By WarriorLoverInc**

**Chapter 1: The Man in the Sand Colored Cloak**

I lay there sprawled out on the ground, my eyes unblinking, staring up at the night sky. It had been so beautiful, before the smoke started to crawl around like some nasty beetle in our garden, and eat up the pitch colored sky and glimmering stars. Like shards of ice they were. I felt something hot run down from the side of my mouth, more blistering than the fire that raged around me? Ridiculous. None the less, I slowly and with great effort raised my hand and became aware that although I had raised my arm, I could no longer feel it. My limbs shivered with a chill that wasn't present and my vision wavered. That's it then, now I knew what came after that. Death. That answered the question as to what was streaming down the side of my face now, the liquid fire, blood. How had it come to this?

"_Someday, your life will flash before your eyes. Make sure it is worth watching."_

The old geezers' words rang true now, strange, in my last moments I should remember him.

Then it happened, my life _did_ flash before my eyes. There was Nefertiti, my loving sister, grinning as I showed her how to write, and crying in fear as I raced away from her in terror of my life. There was mother, cuddling us all on her lap and singing us to sleep during a particularly harsh sandstorm. Heru, always staring off into space, dreaming of becoming a scholar. Along with hard headed Bes, protecting us from thieving bullies while walking the whole seven miles home. And even father, or what was left of my memory of him, decided to show. Tears ran down my face, this was not right, my memories were all going up in flames. My life was flashing before my eyes, but it most defiantly was not worth my time watching. I remembered leaving Bes and Heru to the bullies, mother and Nefertiti being trapped by the soldiers in our burning house and my running away, leaving them all. All those important to me, turning to ashes right in front of me, what a fool I was! Did the Gods really hate me so? I had left mother and sister for dead, left my two best friends in the entire world to a particularly tough and infamous band of thieves, this torture was surely my punishment. Or perhaps this was fathers fault. If he hadn't left, this may have not happened!

My anger flared a bit at that thought, but then boiled down soon after. No, this was not his fault; the army was too strong for even father to have fought off. Mother had said that when he had left, his Shadow Creature was still only the strongest in the village.

"I… will become… the… strongest." I repeated what mother had said my father uttered continually. But just those four words caused me to hack and cough up much more blood. It was now more than a trickle; it was a small river of the scarlet liquid.

Something collided with my side, and there was a sharp pain inflicted to my spread out hand. I would've screamed if I had felt it. All I could manage was a weak and soul wrenching moan.

"Hey!" I heard someone close by yell over the blaze of the inferno, "This one's still alive!"

Good, it was a rescue party.

"Can I take care of him?"

"No! I want to torture him!"

All of a sudden the two men who had walked up seemed less like a rescue party and more like the Pharaohs' soldiers. I grunted a little in an effort to move and crawl away, but the first man booted me again, harder this time. I was thrown against a rock wall and I felt something in me snap. Probably a bone.

"You aren't going anywhere you worthless urchin!" he sneered.

'Course, I couldn't see them, I was too weak to move, and so, I slumped down upon impact with the wall. In my fading eyesight, I could see the rough material that covered my chest, then one of the man's faces as he yanked my head up to look me in the eye.

"Weak one he is," he snickered.

I could faintly make out his face from all the other jumble of images. One phrase to describe his face, as Bes always said, "Ugly mug…" I mumbled half-in-half-out of consciousness.

"What was that!" he growled, grabbing a handful of my bleached hair and yanking it painfully into the air. Well, at least I could still feel that. The soldier pulled my head until my neck was so exposed, it was just waiting to be cut open, he started manically laughing until his partner hit him over the head with the butt of his spear, "Just get on wit' it already! He looks like the last survivor but we have to check around just to make sure, I 'aint havin' my head chopped off by Pharaoh anytime soon."

The man I was now sure was quite mentally unstable sighed as if it were a bother he couldn't take the time to give me a slow painful death, "Very well then," he turned back to me and licked the edge of the dagger he had just pulled out of his cloak, "This should be fun." He grinned and the knife dove somewhere under my sightline. I almost didn't want to see what was happening, but, he was doing this to my body wasn't he? So I struggled and finally angled my head in a way that I could see the damage. Upon seeing it, my eyes drooped further; as if I were tired enough to sleep right now, which I knew was a sleep I would never wake up from. The wound inflicted on my by that man was horrible, my stomach had been ripped open and blood streamed around the gash and soaked into my clothing. Funny, I had always wanted to see a flower bloom instead of wilt, almost impossible to do out in the middle of the desert. Here was a blooming rose, right on me.

I was starting to lose it.

Looking up, I noticed the man with the dagger was coming in for the final strike. Perfect, now I didn't even have the energy to close my eyes. At least I couldn't feel anything; I'd arrive in the afterlife without the excruciating pain I thought I would receive.

Just as the man's strike was about to reach me, there was a yell, "Dark Magician! Dark Magic Attack!"

A huge orb of black energy came hurtling towards the two men torturing me. The one with the spear dodged it in time but the maniac killer took the full force of the attack. He was thrown through several walls and out of sight.

A man then jumped between me and the spear man, separating us. In one fluid motion he kicked the man's legs out from under him, and a Dark Magician Shadow Creature sent him flying with another powerful attack. When the dust had settled a bit, the man in the flowing sand colored cloak finally whipped around my way and made a mad dash towards me.

He could tell I was fading fast, "Boy! Stay with me! Boy…!" he had dropped down beside me and was taking me in his arms, "Boy…!" His voice was fading along with my vision. I gave one last peaceful sigh, faintly smiling, and then everything was washed away in crimson.


	2. Ch 2: Atem the Runaway Pharaoh

**Atem the Pharaoh and Ammon the Thief **

**By WarriorLoverInc**

**Chapter 2: Atem the Runaway Pharaoh**

"Pharaoh! Where have you been!" A man in quite rich looking garb ran up to the man next to the Dark Magician Shadow Creature, "Everyone's been worried sick!"

The Pharaoh chuckled at the man's frantic voice, "They needn't be." His eyes narrowed, his face became serious, and all of a sudden he was all business, "But there is someone who needs all the worrying people he can get." He held out the boy he had been carrying in his arms. The other man winced a bit, the wounds were horrible! Other than the numerous cuts and bruises around his body, he had a deep gash in his stomach. He wasn't moving.

"Is it alive?" the other man asked skeptically.

The Pharaoh nodded, "Now quickly, take him to Tawaret." He held out the boy for him to take.

"Wait, you're not going to-"

"Just take him!" The Pharaoh yelled agitatedly, "He's just barely alive!"

Startled a bit by the Pharaohs intensity, the man bowed slightly and replied, "Yes m'lord." He took the boy and watched horrified as the boys head lolled to the side and his body hung limply in his arms. Like a puppet without a master.

The man ran off towards a wagon among the several others in the camp. Heads turned to watch the man dash into the wagon with the strange boy in his arms. Then all the people in the camp turned to stare at the Pharaoh. A boy who looked to be around five ran up to him and tugged on his cape, "Who was that Atem?" The boys' eyes shone with curiosity.

Atem let out a sigh of relief, the man, Seth, had taken the mortally wounded boy to Tawaret, the caravans' most skilled healer. She had brought people back from the brink of death before, he could trust her with anyone's life, even his own. The boy pulled on his cape again, "Who Atem? Who?" He insisted. His mother rushed over and scooped him up in her arms, holding him close while scolding him, "Oh, Chigaru that is impolite! You will address him as Pharaoh!" she said sternly, with that strangely complete caring tone all mothers seem to inherit, "He will answer your question in due time, do not bother him with such things."

Atem laughed a little and mussed the petite boys' hair, "It's alright ma'am, the small one is just curious."

Something passed over him, and a dark shadow fell over his face. His cheery smile disappeared, and his head was tilted down, hands clenching and unclenching. People from the other carts and tents began to gather around Atem.

"Who was that boy?"

"Pharaoh, you smell like smoke."

"That kid was beat up pretty bad…"

Many questions were thrown around, and when the Pharaoh didn't answer any of them, the crowd grew quiet, waiting for a response. Atem raised his head, looking miserable; he said to them all, "I do not know who that boy is."

Silence met his words.

"I suppose you're also wondering why he is so severely injured."

A few mumbled agreements.

"His village, or at least where I found him, was attacked and destroyed by Pharaoh Rameses soldiers. He was about to be killed by them when I showed up and saved him."

There were shocked whispers floating around, Pharaoh Rameses! He was the false corrupt pharaoh who faked Atems' death and stole the throne for himself! What was he doing here?

"Pharaoh, should we move?" The man, Seth, had returned from Tawarets' wagon. "Pharaoh, if they are so close, should we not change locations?" He asked again, realizing he had all the attention on him now.

Atem nodded, "Good idea." He turned back to the anxiously waiting crowd, "Tomorrow morning we move out."

There were orders given, schedules exchanged, and in a bustle, the camp started to pack up their tents and various possessions. The fires were doused until only smoke wafted up into the night sky.

Atem turned to his Dark Magician Shadow Creature, who had been standing vigilantly next to its master during the entire scene, "Thank you for your help." Atem gratefully sighed. The Dark Magician nodded. Bright light surrounded him, sticking to him like cling wrap, then, he faded away into the night.


	3. Ch 3: 'My Family is Dead'

**Atem the Pharaoh and Ammon the Thief**

**By WarriorLoverInc**

**Chapter 3: "My Family is Dead"**

"You can't possibly keep him too!"

"But Seth—"

"You're so naїve! You can't rescue every kid you come across!"

"Well, what should I do? Leave him in the desert to die?"

Were those voices? I wonder who they belong to, hopefully to that man in the cloak. I suppose finding out is essential.

I slowly squinted my eyes just barely open. There! The spikes of multi colored hair that set my savior apart from most people in Egypt.

I opened my eyes a bit more to take in my surroundings. I seemed to be lying on the creaking wooden floor of a tent. There must have been a bit of a wind because the tent rocked and swayed, the rough material on the wooden frame flapped, and small particles of sand whirled and eddied around my head. There was some sort of crude blanket covering me, my head was propped on some sort of pillow as well. A pillow!

I resisted the urge to bolt upright and gaze at it. Everyone in my village was too poor to afford something as exquisite and rich as a pillow, stuffed with millions of feathers and being all soft and whatnot. They had been introduced to our country when we opened up trade routes with other nations, only the rich could afford such an exotic luxury.

I pushed the pillow to the back of my mind; there'd probably be time to admire it later.

The place smelled with the sharp tang of medicinal herbs and, revoltingly enough, there was an underlying stench, as though someone had recently vomited here. But I didn't want to think about that.

Next to my head sat my spiky haired savior, sitting cross legged and turned a little away from me. I couldn't see his face. He wore the basic clothes of lower-class Egypt. But the man sitting in front of him was another story. He must've been a noble or something, his clothing, although a bit ragged and dirty, was the richest I had ever seen. White and blue robes covered him, ending at his ankles; they looked to be of high grade cotton. He even carried a strange rod made of pure gold. Pure gold!

My thieving instincts told me this man was literally a gold mine. Even just a shred of his clothing would pay enough to feed my family for a month probably.

My family! Mother, Nefertiti! Bes, Heru!

Upon summoning these unpleasant memories I was consumed with unbearable grief. My body, as if responding to my mind, reacted by whipping my hand down under the sheet to my worn leather belt, I had made it myself as we had no money to buy that sort of thing. When I had created the belt for myself, I had also made a leather case to strap my rusty dagger to my person, in case I needed it, you never knew around there. The dagger was still there, and it soon found itself plunging at its owner's throat.

But a hand dashed out in the path of my quick arm and stopped the dagger in its tracks. It was my savior, the spiky-haired man. The next moment after stopping the dagger, he grabbed my wrist and wouldn't let go. He had blocked the dagger not a moment too soon; the blade was half a centimeter away from my bobbing Adams apple. The man looked upon me with a worried expression.

"You don't want to be doing that boy." He quietly said, lowering the dagger from the air where it quivered in my hand, prying it out of the death grip I held on the handle. He set the blade down far from my reach. I glanced apprehensively at the rusted dagger where it lay on the floor behind the man.

The man in the rich clothing, he had been called Seth, stared at me when he realized I was awake. "You handle this." He grunted, flashing an annoyed glare at the spiky-haired man and then glowered at me before pushing the tent flap aside and jumping out. Strange. The tent must be elevated. That thought was even stranger.

The man sitting cross-legged next to me shifted his position so he could see me better. He had large scarlet eyes to match with his tan Egyptian skin. The hair belonging to this man, as I said, had totally natural spikes of red, blond, and purple colored highlights, probably also natural, on his black locks. There was an upside down pyramid shaped lump under his shirt. He noticed me staring at it and pulled it out. It _was_ a golden upside down pyramid, carved to make it look as though it was made out of bricks, and with a modified eye of Horus on the front. A leather cord kept it around his neck. From his looks, he was sixteen.

We just sat there staring at each other until the man broke the silence, "Who are you?"

The conspicuousness of the question made me flinch under his gaze. Opening my mouth to speak, I suddenly had trouble calling upon the right memory, and finally replied, "Ammon."

The man slowly nodded his head, apparently thinking, "Hello then, Ammon. I am Atem."

Atem, the name sounded familiar, where had I heard that name before? It seemed as though fog had blown through my ear and into my thoughts. I had a memory in my grasp, and then it would be driven away by some unseen wind. For a moment I remembered something about an old geezer, then that too slipped out of my mind.

"Where am I Atem?"

"You are with a band of travelling merchants."

I studied Atem; I could almost swear I had seen him before. But I couldn't have seen him before the destruction of my village, when he had saved me. Unless the merchants had visited the village before then.

_What an absurd thought,_ I told myself, _our village is so remote, we hardly ever see a ceramics merchant*._

My thoughts were interrupted by another of Atem's questions, "What was that all about," he nodded towards my dagger, "with that dagger back there."

After a while of silence, I was about to answer his question when I suddenly had trouble recalling the reason I would do something as drastic as try to kill myself. Then I remembered, "My family and friends were probably all killed…" I muttered. _And it's all my fault_, I thought but didn't say.

He nodded, only mildly surprised, "I thought as much." He mumbled, half to himself.

After a long hush where only wind and creaking boards of the tent could be heard, my eyes welled up with tears for my lost family and friends. In one day, my whole life had been burnt to a crisp. Slowly and a bit hesitantly, Atem reached out and gently caressed my bleach blond hair in an attempt to calm me. My body was wracked with severe sobs, and I rolled over on my side, away from Atem. His comforting worked a little, it seemed as though he had had earlier experience with someone a similar size.

"Tell me," he said, after I had calmed down a bit. I sniffed and lay on my back again, where I could see him. "How did your village come to that situation?"

The same question I had asked myself while I lay half dead comparing garden beetles to smoke in the midst of my burning village.

I bit my lip, never wanting to share that story. Partly because I didn't want to remember it, and partially because I was ashamed of the Ammon in those memories. But as I looked back up after reflecting whether or not to tell this stranger my story into the crimson eyes of Atem, I got the message.

_You carry the burden, but I can help too._

* Ceramics merchants (in my story) are the most common and wide spread merchants b/c ceramics travel well, can be easily made, and sold and bought at a low price.


End file.
